Unfair
by Phiso
Summary: It's difficult when the person you care about most both loves and hates you for being yourself.


It wasn't fair.

It had all seemed so simple. McGonagall had assigned a foot and a half of parchment to be turned in on Monday, leaving a weekend to complete the assignment. It was to be a major grade, and one that could possibly bring many up to passing. Everyone was stressed about it, and worked hard on it.

Ron tried especially hard. He poured over books borrowed from me all that afternoon, and spent all of Saturday in the library, taking extensive notes. He reminded Harry and I of myself, impatient with anyone who interrupted him and focused only on learning as much as humanly possible in a limited amount of time. Sunday consisted of writing, my precious redhead scribbling away draft after draft as he perfected his work, checking facts over in stacks of books around him and even using reference books to add an extra bit of background information for a few bonus points. Just watching him, so determined to do his best, made my heart swell with pride.

I…I am ashamed to say I wasn't able to try quite as hard as Ron did. I had two tests that Monday and was much more concerned with passing them than finishing that essay. Preoccupying myself with reading my textbooks as feverishly as I could, I barely had time to squeeze in thirty minutes between subjects to sloppily write something down for Transfiguration before returning to my studies. I didn't expect to get a particularly high grade on it, but that was all right; my grade was already high enough that it would cushion my fall. I could easily afford a low grade without too many consequences.

When we received our grades, Ron was positively glowing. It was the highest grade he had ever gotten in Transfiguration; even McGonagall was a little surprised. His eyes sparkled with glee; his cheeks were flushed with pleasure. It looked as if he felt he could do anything if only he had the mind to, and it made me unbelievably happy to see him that proud of himself.

When she passed me my report, she placed it face down on my desk, and my heart fell a little. I must have done worse than I thought. Bracing myself, I lifted the corner of the sheet, ready to see a grade way below my usual standard. What I saw hit me like a blow to the stomach.

I didn't understand how this could happen. I had scrawled something out without thinking; I personally thought it was one of my worst essays to date. Looking up, I stared at McGonagall, my eyes begging for an answer; she only gave me a shrug and a sad smile, her eyes flickering towards Ron in worry before moving on.

"So, Hermione, what'd you get?" Ron asked, making me jump. I turned towards him, trying to smile but only succeeding in producing an entirely too suspicious laugh.

"Ah, it's nothing," I said in what I prayed was an offhand voice as I slowly slipped the paper closer and closer towards my book bag. "It's just – "

"Don't worry about it, we promise we won't laugh, right Harry?" Ron said with a grin, trying to snatch the sheet out of my hands. He glanced back towards Harry, though it was obvious that he wasn't really paying attention; otherwise, he would have seen the strange look on Harry's face, the one that stared at me with an expression of mingled dread and pity. I bit my lip.

Harry knew. He knew what I had gotten, and he knew what was going to happen, and he knew there was nothing either of us could do to stop it.

I struggled to hide my paper, but Ron made quick work of retrieving it with his long arms. His grin never faded as he assured me that he wouldn't think any less of me, as his eyes looked down onto the sheet –

And there it was. The moment that made me flinch, that made my heart plunge into my stomach and my shoulders cringle uncomfortably.

"Oh," he said faintly, his smile fading quite rapidly from his lips. "Oh, I – I see."

"Ron," I said weakly, reaching for my paper again; he held it away, still reading it. Slowly, he picked up his own grade sheet and compared the two, making sure to keep them out of my reach. Harry watched on with conflicted concern, unsure of who would be more upset in the end. "Please, Ron, give it back." My voice quivered.

There was a long silence as we watched Ron, his eyes beginning to smolder in anger. I was close to tears now, ready to beg him to return it to me. His hand, the one clenching my grade, was shaking, and I was terrified that he was going to let go of it and do something, anything, to get back at me. Finally, he thrust the sheet towards me and I recoiled, thinking he was going to do something else. His expression looked pained as he tried to smile.

"G-good job, Hermione," he said in a falsely bright voice. It was obvious that the smile was hurting him; his lips were twitching. I could hear Harry groan softly behind him.

I took the sheet back silently and looked away, fighting back the tears threatening to overwhelm me. What was I supposed to do? It wasn't my fault; I didn't mean to do better with him without even trying. I had honestly believed that he would come out on top; after all, with all the effort he put into it, he deserved it.

I chanced a peek at Ron only once more during class; his ears were red and his eyes were staring straight ahead the entire time, Harry murmuring beside him. I heaved a trembling sigh.

It hurt knowing that the person I cared about most both loved and hated me for being myself. What hurt more was the knowledge that deep down, I knew that would never change.

It really wasn't fair.


End file.
